


and the world is mine.

by aceface



Category: One Direction (Band), X Factor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:03:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceface/pseuds/aceface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I need a good shag," Harry says with no pre-amble, when they're out at sea. </p>
<p>Rich Kids of Instagram au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the world is mine.

**Author's Note:**

> This is for lovesletyoudown. Hope you like it, lovely~!

"I need a good shag," Harry says with no pre-amble, when they're out at sea. It's definitely not fair that Zayn has a yacht and Harry doesn't.

"Oh, really?" Zayn says, and raises an eyebrow (which is another thing that isn't fair, that he can do that and Harry can't). "What was it you were on about the other day? Girls and boys on tap, _you_ said."

"I did," Harry says, "and there are. But the last one was a bit creepy. Gave off creepy vibes, you know? I checked her phone when she went to the bathroom and there were all these photos of me sleeping."

"Did you--"

"I deleted them, _obviously_ ," Harry says in his best long-suffering tone of voice, the one that Liam used when he opened the door at Zayn's yesterday. "It just put me off a bit."

"Well, I'm afraid I can't help you, mate," Zayn says, and wrinkles his nose a little. "It's been a while for me and all."

Harry opens his mouth, but before he can say anything --

"No," Zayn says, and Harry pouts at him.

"I haven't even said it yet."

Zayn sighs, loudly and overdramatically, sitting down on the seat next to Harry and making the cushions dip just enough that Harry can get away with leaning into his side. "I'm not gonna sleep with you just because you haven't put your dick in anything in a while."

"But we both want to," Harry points out, and Zayn makes a face. "At least _I_ want to."

"And did no one ever tell you that you can't get everything you want?"

"Well... no, actually," Harry says, and Zayn rolls his eyes.

"That explains so much." He's smiling, though -- or at least, he _sounds_ like he is even if it's not reflected on his face. Harry likes to think he knows Zayn well enough by now to tell.

"Look, we're mates, aren't we?" Harry's mostly asking rhetorically but he does wonder sometimes; the thing is, Zayn is really cool. He moved here a while ago and Harry kept waiting for Zayn to realise that Harry isn't actually that cool, but Zayn didn't. Or rather he _did_ , and stuck around anyway -- but it's just weird, because Zayn is beautiful. Like, hotter than Harry, which isn't fair, and he's got these eyelashes and cheekbones and okay, maybe Harry's been thinking about him quite a lot while jerking off lately, but that's irrelevant.

If it was just that Zayn was pretty, that'd be okay. Harry has a lot of pretty friends, but Zayn's really funny and cool and also really dorky? Basically, Harry tries not to think too much about what Zayn's doing hanging around with him, in case he breaks the friendship somehow.

"We are," Zayn says, and he's got a bit of a smirk going on, which shouldn't be as sexy as it sort of is. "Don't want to fuck that up, Harry."

"I just," Harry says, and stops. He's not entirely sure why he's so set on this. "We wouldn't fuck it up. We both need some action, right, and it's just -- mutually satisfying each other. And it's actually _better_ because we're mates, we can tell each other if it's shit or how to -- like, what we like and stuff."

"This is a terrible idea," Zayn says, but...

"That's not a 'no'."

"I guess it's not," Zayn says, and tips his head back against the side of the boat -- Harry watches the line of his neck, the way his throat works when he swallows. "If something happens, it happens. But don't go trying it on for the sake of it, yeah? I'd rather not feel awkward around you."

"It's like you think I don't have any moves," Harry says, a little offended. Still, he doesn't try anything -- not til later, when the moon's up and he climbs into bed with Zayn, mouthing at the neck he'd wanted to mark so badly earlier.

They don't mention it during the day but if Zayn touches him more often, looks at him a little too long, well. They're mates, aren't they.

-

"I slept with Zayn the other night," Harry says, from his position on Niall's bed. It's possibly inappropriate, but he's bored of watching Niall try and decide which hat to wear and he wants to get a reaction. He forgot, of course, that Niall is like the worst person to try and get a reaction from. Harry's not even sure that Niall's heard him. "I _said_ ," he says instead, louder, "I slept with _Zayn_ the other night." He pauses, then adds, "On a yacht."

"Ah, I heard you," Niall says easily, still staring at his walk in wardrobe. "Just wasn't sure what you expected me to do about it."

Harry isn't either now that Niall's said that. "Congratulate me," he says firmly, flopping back against Niall's pillows. "I think I deserve congratulations."

"I don't think you do," Niall says dubiously, and finally -- finally! -- turns to look at him. "Was it on your bucket list?"

"No," Harry says. "I don't name specific people on there, that'd be weird."

"Except you named, who was it again? That bird that you met at that party--"

"NO," Harry says loudly, because they've both agreed to forget about Caroline, and judging from Niall's face he's just remembered that as well. "Anyway, I deserve congratulations because, well... it's _Zayn_ , isn't it?"

"It _is_ Zayn," Niall agrees, and shrugs a shoulder. "Are we having like, proper mates' heart to heart type shite going down, 'cause if we are then I'm going to need a drink."

"Er, maybe," Harry says thoughtfully. "I've not decided, actually. Can we have a drink anyway? Do you have any Moet?"

"I've got Guinness," Niall says. "Can't say I've any clue what me dad's got in the wine cellar though, you want me to have a look?"

"I _suppose_ ," Harry huffs out, as dramatically as possible. "Maybe. I hate Guinness, you know that."

"I don't mind drinking alone," Niall says, and shrugs a shoulder -- although he does still clamber onto the bed next to Harry, not even taking his shoes off. Gross. He knocks his shoulder companionably against Harry's once he's up there, grinning at him. "C'mon then, what's got you all pouty?"

"'M not pouty," Harry mumbles. "It's just Zayn, isn't it?"

"I think we've already established that it's Zayn, yeah," Niall says unhelpfully. "I thought you wanted congratulations, you don't seem very happy."

"I am," Harry says, "but I kind of want to sleep with him again, which is a bit weird. Is that a bit weird?"

"Not usually," Niall says. "It is a bit for you, though. Not for most people."

"I suppose," Harry says, again. "It won't mess us up being mates, will it? D'you think? Maybe I didn't really think it through."

"You _obviously_ didn't think it through," Niall says, "because you don't really think about things when you do them. I don't think it'll mess you up if you don't let it, though. It's not like Zayn's in love with you. Not like if Louis slept with Liam or something, have you seen the way Liam looks at him?"

"You don't think Zayn's in love with me?" Harry frowns. "And -- wait, Zayn's new pool boy, Liam? And Louis? That's so scandalous, why don't _I_ get to have an affair with the pool boy?"

"You _do_ think Zayn's in love with you?" Niall parrots back. "Don't start playing games with him, Harry, you know you'll only regret it if you do."

"I won't, I'm not," Harry says. "Fuck off. Liam and Louis are having a thing?"

Niall rolls his eyes at Harry's blatant change of subject, but he finds some Cristal under his bed and tells him all about Louis's attempt to get Liam to go out with him anyway.

-

Zayn's outside on a sunlounger when Harry finds him; vintage RayBans on his face and his hair styled so perfectly that he clearly has no intentions of going swimming, despite the fact he's in his swimming trunks. Zayn rarely goes swimming, though, to be honest -- the most they do is splash around a bit if there are girls about. 

"Alright," Harry says instead and sits down on Zayn's legs, smiling sweetly when Zayn raises one eyebrow above the lenses of his sunglasses. "Louis's in love with your new pool boy, did you know? I'm a bit jealous, I might want him for myself."

"Liam," Zayn says. "Please tell me you're not about to become this much of a cliche."

"Is it really a cliche if I seduce someone _else's_ pool boy?" Harry asks philosophically. He's not going to; Liam isn't his type, although he did look like he'd be fun to corrupt. Liam'd probably get all sad about it and quit his job though, and it's no fun having sex with someone if they're just going to be sad afterwards. Such a buzz kill. Louis's already staked a claim anyway, and Harry doesn't want to piss him off. He's not _that_ much of a bastard.

"Yes," Zayn says, and kicks at Harry until he reluctantly moves off his legs, curling up next to him on the sunlounger instead. "Besides, Liam's nice." He kicks Harry again, but it's a lot more half hearted this time. "Oi, we do have more than one chair, you know."

"I know," Harry says, and grins at him. "I like this one best, though."

"Right, whatever," Zayn mumbles, like he's half asleep or something. "Are you here for any reason, or just to be generally irritating?"

"I miss having a pool," Harry says, and curls closer to Zayn. "Come swimming with me."

Zayn cracks one eye open, tilting his sunglasses up just enough to give Harry an unimpressed look. "You have a pool. You were the first of us to get one."

"Nah, it's being remodeled, I want it in the shape of a guitar," Harry says. He's tired now, probably because Zayn's being so lazy. "Can we go away somewhere? What about New York, we haven't been to New York in ages."

"My dad's got the jet at the moment and I'm not flying public," Zayn says half-heartedly. "I don't want to spend the whole time with you complaining about your hair going limp and trying to get naked under a blanket without anyone seeing." He has a point, Harry has to concede. It's been ages since they've been anywhere though, and Harry definitely needs a holiday. Taylor won't stop calling him and it's getting harder to avoid her when she's probably going to summer in England, plus Gemma's organising something from one of her committees and the house is filled with her friends. Which wouldn't be so bad, except Harry's sure he's slept with most of them at one point or another, so he'd rather not be around if that's alright.

He opens his mouth to tell Zayn that and then closes it again. For some reason -- it's weird, but he doesn't exactly want to talk about his sex life with Zayn lately. Maybe because Zayn never talks about _his_ \-- Harry isn't even sure if he's got one. He knows that Zayn slept with Rebecca, and Gen, and maybe there was even some crossover -- plus him and Harry used to pick up together, sometimes even taking the girls back to a shared room which was really hot -- but maybe Zayn's in a dry spell. Either way, Harry hasn't -- doesn't want Zayn knowing. For once.

"I need a holiday," he says instead and Zayn sighs. 

Harry almost thinks that Zayn's gone back to sleep, except he pushes his sunglasses down a moment or two later -- Harry reaches over to steal them from his face, slipping them on instead -- and says, "We could take the yacht out again."

Harry's pretty sure 'taking the yacht out' is now code for 'let's have sex' between the two of them, but he's not arguing either way.

-

"Okay," Harry says, sitting up from where they're sprawled out over Zayn's bed, mostly naked. He's really used to Zayn's bed now, partly because they haven't left in the last month -- for some reason, they never end up at Harry's house, probably because of Gem -- and he shakes his hair back over his eyes. They usually have a sort of unspoken mutual agreement not to mess up each other's hair, but Zayn _really_ likes it when Harry bites his shoulder and so Harry isn't going to hold him responsible for breaking that. "Guess what I've got."

"Don't," Zayn says, not moving. "You know I'm not going to guess."

"Spoilsport," Harry says. "Shall I get Liam up here and make him guess? Maybe he'd be more fun than you."

"One, no he wouldn't," Zayn says, still not even bothering to open his eyes, _rude_. "Two, it's his day off. He's over at Louis's."

"Seriously?" Harry didn't see this coming -- Liam had been so adamant that he couldn't date Louis, something about either professionalism or class divide or something equally ridiculous. Not that Louis was one to take no for an answer, but Liam seemed terrified of him. Still, this is a good thing. Probably. Even if it _will_ make Louis more boring, whatever, Harry doesn't need him. "Oh. How clean's your pool then?"

"Liam isn't actually a pool boy," Zayn says. "I've told you this, just because he cleans a pool doesn't make him a pool boy."

"You're rubbish, I'm trying to tell you something," Harry replies, and ignores Zayn's entire response because, hi, what kind of a rich young thing is he if he doesn't even know anyone with a pool boy. Harry likes to imagine himself a cross between a Desperate Housewife and, like, that guy from the movie about the party that went wrong. Something with an X. He hasn't actually seen it -- are they even rich? Maybe he's more like Made In Chelsea, only he hasn't seen that either.

"No, you're not, you just like listening to your own voice," Zayn says and squawks indignantly when Harry hits him in the chest with a pillow. "Fuck off, Styles!"

"I got you a _present_ ," Harry says, and fishes around for his satchel. "I don't know if I want to give you it now, though." He does, anyway; he'd asked Ed to keep an eye out for it and he'd bought it straight away when it came up. Finding the bottle in his bag, he throws it at Zayn -- who ducks, instinctively, but it luckily lands safely on the bed.

Zayn grabs it, holds it up, lets out a low whistle. "Shiiiiit. Fuck me, this is Glenrothes, 1970 and all. Extraordinary Cask?" He sets the bottle down to stare at Harry, who takes advantage of the moment and snatches the whiskey back. "Eh, c'mon! You said it was a present."

"I did," Harry says, and shakes the bottle at him as enticingly as he knows how. "But you know it's going to cost you."

They came up with the system a while back, Harry doesn't remember when -- maybe when they were trying to play poker or one of them lost a bet or something, and they were probably both drunk. Almost definitely, in fact. The point is that money sort of -- when you can spend over £3,000 on a bottle of whiskey, it's difficult to make it have any real meaning. So they came up with a new currency.

It was Louis's idea, probably, but they hadn't objected at the time -- too drunk to -- and then after that, it'd just sort of been a thing. Secrets. 

There was nothing worth more than a secret, really, and besides it was nice. Knowing something that no one else did, trusting each other enough to tell them and the kind of lives they led, there were always new secrets. They didn't have to be your own; it could be a secret about someone else, and you weren't allowed to tell anyone (although Harry's pretty sure he's used some of the secrets to get his own way before now, so maybe that rule is more of a guideline). 

"Fine, fine," Zayn says eventually, and rolls onto his front so he can glare at Harry properly. "But we're drinking this first."

Harry doesn't like whiskey, not really, but Zayn doesn't let him mix it with anything and it's not like Harry can say no to him. Harry isn't very good at saying no anyway, it's not something that he really needs to -- Harry likes saying yes to stuff, stupid stuff, stuff that no one else says yes to. He likes to try everything; when you've got the money and the opportunities, why not? (It's probably why he used to be such good friends with Louis, before Louis grew up and started caring about things like remembering his nights out and having a stable relationship. Stupid things.) But something about Zayn is even harder to say no to, and Harry wonders if this is what other people mean when they say the same about him.

It's not as bad as usual though, maybe because of the company, certainly not because of the price -- come on, it's not like Harry's used to cheap whiskey. Still, it slips down easy enough, easily enough that he stops wondering if Zayn would _really_ notice if Harry sneaked some Diet Coke into it. 

"Okay," Zayn says, when they've both finished a couple of glasses or so in companionable silence (Jurassic Park is still on TV, but neither of them have been paying much attention). "Let me think."

"I thought you were doing," Harry says, but he grins at Zayn and takes another swallow of the Glenrothes. "Take your time."

"Okay," Zayn says, again -- he's not slurring, but Harry can hear that he's going to be soon. "But you can't tell anyone this, Hazza, I mean it. This isn't one of our usual shitty secrets, okay? You can't -- I haven't told anyone this."

Harry can't help the rush of excitement that goes through him, and it's not because of power or anything shit like that, okay. He just likes feeling special. He likes being the only one to know things. "I won't," he says belatedly, realising that Zayn is looking at him and waiting for an answer.

"Right," Zayn says, and looks down at his drink -- he looks _embarrassed_ , Harry realises, and it's kind of hot. Not in a humiliation kink way, just in a -- Zayn doesn't let anyone see his vulnerabilities, okay, he's got all the mysterious thing going on, and this is... unexpected. Seeing this side of him. "I mean it," Zayn says again, "you really can't. This is rare, but -- the whiskey, I mean, and. I'm trusting you," he finishes, losing conviction.

Harry doesn't really know what to say to that, because he's not very good at words sometimes. Like, this feels really special, and he doesn't want to fuck it up -- he's very good at fucking things up. Instead, he takes a drink of his whiskey to buy some time, meeting Zayn's eyes. They're dark and intense and Harry swallows his drink and says, "I know. I won't -- I wouldn't tell anyone, I wouldn't."

"..okay," Zayn says, and finishes his whiskey, setting it down on the side table. "Alright. So, you know when I was going out with Gen -- Genevieve?"

"Yes," Harry says, because he knows the answer to this one, and a faint smirk tugs at the corner of Zayn's lips in response.

"Right. And Rebecca. And when I went down on those girls, when we were sharing the room."

"Yes," Harry says again, because that went over well the first time. He adds, "I do," and smiles at Zayn for good measure, even if it does end up a little dirty -- he can still remember the noises Zayn had made.

"Er, right," Zayn says, reaches to take another sip of his drink and stops when he realises he's already finished it. "I didn't sleep with any of them."

It's Harry's turn to say, "..okay," a little slowly, because -- it's not what he thought, but it's not, it doesn't really seem like a secret, either.

"The only person I've slept with," Zayn continues, "apart from you, is my friend Danny, from back home."

Harry can maybe see why that's a secret.

-

"Did you know," Harry starts to say to Louis, then stops himself. Keeping a secret is hard, harder than Harry thought it would be, especially when he doesn't need to ask Louis if he knows that Zayn is practically a virgin. Louis _doesn't_ know, only Zayn and Harry know, and Harry wants to keep it that way. It's just instinct to tell Louis things, even now when he never sees him. Still, Harry just thinks of the way Zayn had sounded when he told Harry that he was trusting him, and it's enough to make the words die in his throat.

Louis quirks an eyebrow at him, lounging back in the ridiculous throne he insisted on being bought for his twentieth birthday. "Did I know what?"

"That your face is stupid now," Harry says, which he thinks is quite a good recovery. Louis doesn't seem to think so, judging by the face he pulls. "Now that you're going out with Liam, I mean. Are you two official yet?"

" _Facebook_ official," Louis says proudly. "I'm thinking of getting him one of those ID bracelets, but with my name on."

"Doesn't that kind of defy the point of an ID bracelet?"

"That's what Liam said," Louis says, and makes a different face. "What's going on with you and Zayn, anyway?"

"What," Harry says, and takes the moment to try and fix his hair. Judging by Louis's everything, though, he's not getting away with it and sometimes it sucks to have a friend who knows you that well. "I don't -- nothing is. Did you -- shut up!"

"Ah, young Harry, could you be experiencing the raptures of true love's kiss?" Louis says, the fucker, they are never watching Enchanted together again. "I know you've been with a lot of people, and that you're probably overdue for an STD test, but I'd just like to say to you that what you feel about Zayn isn't chlamydia, it's love. I know the two can be easily mistaken, burning loins and all that -- actually, maybe that one is chlamydia, I don't know -- but look at the facts, you're just in with Zayn all the time and when you're not, you're out with him, draping yourself all over him at a party -- which you never go to anymore, by the way --"

"Oh my God, _shut up_ ," Harry groans, throwing his upper body across Louis in an attempt to shove his hand over his mouth. "I'm not in love with Zayn, can you shut up? Don't go projecting your stupid feelings about Liam all over me."

"My feelings about Liam are not stupid," Louis says, in the tone of voice where Harry can't quite tell if he's offended or just pretending to be. "They're all good things, as you'd realise if you stopped being so stupid about your feelings for Zayn. So _you're_ the stupid one, actually."

"I don't have feelings for Zayn," Harry says. "Just the normal ones. Friendship ones and the 'I want to sleep with you' ones and I've had both of those before. At the same time, even."

"Yes, but _not for the same person_ ," Louis says, as though that makes all the difference. It doesn't.

Harry turns the volume up on You've Got Mail and drowns out the rest of Louis's speech.

-

Harry decides to go to a party after that, to prove the point to Louis that he isn't always at home -- even though Louis is out with Liam, and so not there to have the point proven to him, whatever. It's the first party that Harry's been to without Zayn in a while -- a long while, actually, and he didn't realise how long it'd been until now. He feels almost at a loss without Zayn's warm weight, wrapping his arms around him from behind and leaning against him, and he realises with a start that he feels a bit adrift. But that's stupid, because Harry is to a party what anything is to a party -- he's pinatas and punch and whatever else there is at parties, apart from him, always him.

So the only thing to do is have a drink, obviously. The grass outside is already covered in bodies -- parties inside are so impasse right now -- and there's a barman or two over by the cocktail tents, even if Harry does fancy something stronger. He's got some Grey Goose in his hip flask, even though Nick probably has some. There's no harm in being careful. 

"Harry!" Nick says, appearing from nowhere and throwing an arm around him. His tie's already undone and Harry can see his bare feet in the grass; he wasn't aware that clothes were optional otherwise he'd be wearing a lot less. He manages to drag his tie off, already feeling a little tipsy, and beams back at Nick. "Harry, I haven't seen you in forever, where've you been hiding?"

"Around," Harry says as vaguely as possible, stealing Nick's drink and managing to down it in one. It's some sickly pink concoction and it's gross, but he can feel the kick of good vodka at the back of his throat so it's clearly also going to do the job. "Had to come out of hiding for one of your parties, though."

"They _are_ legendary," Nick agrees, one arm still around Harry as he leads him in a slightly weaving path towards the main crowd. "Got a hot tub the other day, one of those like they have in The Sims. You know, the love heart shaped ones with roses? It's so tacky, everyone loves it."

"Very ironic," Harry says, as solemnly as he can while still trying not to gag on Nick's drink. "I didn't bring my swimming costume, though." He permits himself a smirk when Nick glances at him, knowing he's not serious but drunk enough to think he might be, and then Nick laughs properly -- loud and slightly obnoxious. "Who's in the hot tub, then?"

"Commoners," Nick says dismissively. "But they're all going in a bit, and then we'll have the proper party. Ed's here, says you owe him for some whiskey or other, I don't know how you can drink that. D'you smoke a pipe and wear a dressing gown at the same time?"

"I'm pretty much Hugh Hefner," Harry says, and takes another drink from a pretty girl who hands him one. He's not sure if she works there, probably not actually, but Nick won't know either. Nick doesn't throw parties, so much as they just sort of happen around him and he doesn't do anything to stop them. "Oh, is that Alexa?"

"Yeah, she flew back from New York for this," Nick says, and waves. "Oi! Alexa!"

Harry hadn't realised what everyone meant when they said he hadn't been out in a while but he does now; the party is a veritable parade of people that he hasn't seen in ages; Gillian and LMC and Alexa and Ed and...

Harry's missed them, he has, but... he hasn't really missed _this_. It feels like forever (but has probably only been a few hours, to be honest) before he manages to slip away and slide down the wall around the corner of Nick's house, taking another drink. He's more than a bit tipsy -- okay, he's actually really drunk -- and it's nice to sit on the cool, dark earth and just rest his head for a few moments. Socialising never used to be so hard, he's pretty sure, and Harry can't help taking his phone out of his pocket and scrolling, hovering over Zayn's name.

Then he realises what he's doing and shoves the phone back into his pocket, swaying to his feet and heading back to the party. He can do this.

The hot tub is lit up, pink and red with steam rising from it, and he's heading over before he quite knows what he's doing. It's quieter than it was, the party's settled down -- this is probably the real party that Nick was on about, actually, and speaking of Nick, he's holed up in the hot tub with Taylor.

"Alright," Harry says, and manages to struggle out of his shirt and trousers before getting into the hot tub. "This is a bit hot, isn't it?"

"That's kind of the point," Taylor says, and giggles. He hasn't heard her lilting American accent in a long time, and it strikes him now that he hasn't really missed it. "I haven't seen you around in a while, Harry."

"You've been in America," Harry says, feeling irrationally grumpy all of a sudden.

"Yes," Taylor says, and smiles at him, leaning forward to put a hand on his knee. "I'm not at the moment, though."

Harry looks between her and Nick; Nick, who's watching the scene with interest. He realises what this is all of a sudden and it shouldn't be as much of a surprise as it is. Harry's messed around with both of them before, Nick _and_ Taylor, and they've all idly talked about maybe doing it together sometime. Still, with the whole Zayn thing it's sort of gone out of his head -- _Zayn_ , Harry thinks with a jolt, and his stomach turns. He doesn't want to be here, in this stupid ironic hot tub, with Nick's weird pink drinks. He wants to be at Zayn's, watching something weird on late night TV and sharing a pizza. Or having sex. Or both, or all of them, he just doesn't want to be here right now.

"I have to go," Harry says, and climbs out of the hot tub. 

Paul, his driver, doesn't say a word when Harry slides into the back of the Bentley, dripping wet and only in his boxers. Harry hasn't been this grateful in a long time.

-

"Are we going out?" Zayn asks, half hidden under the fluffy covers on his bed, and Harry frowns at him. 

"Er, no, I thought you said you didn't have any plans today? I was going to make a cuppa--"

"You were going to _get_ someone to make a cuppa," Zayn clarifies, and Harry flaps a hand at him because, really, that's irrelevant. "And no, that's not what I meant. Stop being so dense. I meant, are we dating?"

"Um," Harry says, and his frown deepens. "Yes? At least, I thought we were. If we haven't been then that's just rude, 'cause I turned down a threesome in a hot tub the other weekend because I thought we were, and you know that's on my bucket list."

"You did that last summer," Zayn points out and Harry pushes at him, in the most half-arsed way possible.

"No, that was in the, what's it called, jacuzzi. That's nothing to do with a hot tub."

"So we're dating," Zayn says, trying to establish it or something, whatever -- if he doesn't want to discuss the difference between jacuzzi and hot tub sex then that's _fine_. They can always have sex in Niall's jacuzzi at some point and -- it's weird that neither of them have a hot tub, actually. Harry makes a mental note to buy one, before he realises that Zayn is still looking at him, like that was a question.

"Yes," he says. "Also, we should do it in Niall's jacuzzi."

"No, we shouldn't," says Zayn and Harry pushes at him and says, "Oh my God, you're so boring. Maybe I'll date someone who'll let me give them a hand job in a jacuzzi."

"You never said anything about hand jobs," Zayn points out, his eyebrows doing that thing where he's turned on and doesn't want to admit it, _ha_ , Harry is definitely going to wank him off in Niall's jacuzzi. "No -- stop that, Harry, c'mon. D'you really think this is a good idea?"

"I think we've established that I think sex in jacuzzis is a good idea, yes," Harry says slowly. "Or not necessarily a _good_ idea, just one I'm interested in, what is it? Pursuing."

"God, you're impossible," Zayn says. "Dating, for fuck's sake, Harry. Is it a good idea to fucking date each other?"

"Well, we are doing," Harry points out, and tries not to sound dejected at the amount of swearing Zayn is feeling the need to do. "I mean, it's going to go wrong at some point. But I'm having a nice time at the moment. Aren't you?"

"Fuck off, I wouldn't be doing it otherwise," Zayn says mildly. "As long as we're going to stay mates, yeah?"

"I hope so," Harry says honestly. "I really like you, and I like dating you. I don't want to stop it."

"If _you_ like it then it's probably a terrible idea," Zayn says. He grins at Harry anyway, lacing their fingers together. "I guess we can give it a go anyway, though."

"Yeah?" Harry says and when Zayn squeezes his hand and says, "Yeah," back, it sounds like a promise.


End file.
